


Postcards

by orphan_account



Category: Game Grumps, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Postcards held more of Jon's personality than any text about the weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postcards

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Postcards by Jukebox the Ghost. I need sleep.

_ Do you really want to fix everything up?  _

 

Arin’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes fixed on the postcard in his hand. The writing was Jon's, he knew that instantly, but the words felt wrong and misplaced. Arin read over the words a few more times, it just not connecting in his head. It was as if Jon had wrote him in another language! Inhale, Exhale. Arin turned the postcard over, looking at the image of two birds perched in a tree as if it held some secret message. 

 

Postcards were the only things Arin truly had left from Jon. Arin did have Jon’s phone number, but the conversation had turned stale long ago. It was as if they were dancing around something bigger and it killed Arin inside. The most interesting thing they would talk about is where Jon should send the postcards. It's strange how Jon would send postcards in the twenty first century, he wasn't exactly sure why Jon did it. At first he was incredibly confused by the postcards, but now they are just another part of life. In fact, Arin got more joy than he would admit from getting a new one. Postcards held more of Jon's personality than any text about the weather. Usually the images on the postcards were regular stock images, while the back had a little joke, or tidbit of information; ‘It's your birthday! Break out the non alcoholic beverages, have yourself a party!’ He'd get a postcard for holidays, his birthday, and a few miscellaneous ones scattered across random dates. This postcard was one of the miscellaneous ones. 

The words mulled over in Arin’s head for a little while, and soon memories started poking their way into his mind. This postcard was written as a response, a response to Arin’s postcard. The man broke. He'd sent postcards before, though only when Jon would ask a him question on a postcard. The questions were never more heated than a curious notion about a videogame, but Arin always felt the need to answer. His postcards were always covered with drawn on eyebrows and mustaches, the original image being far more generic. Though, these regular postcards aren't what made Arin so shocked he got a response from. It was  _ the postcard _ , this postcard was one written as a last ditch effort to get a response from Jon. 

   Jon never spoke of what happened, the other grumps, or even if he misses Arin or not. This drove Arin mad! It was almost as if the whole thing didn't exist, and any mention of it was like talking to a brick wall. Arin understood not wanting to talk to the public about it, but not even conversing with the one involved about it? He was sick of waiting for Jon to make the first move, so he decided to ask Jon with the thing that he was most open with Arin on: Postcards. It was a bitter postcard, filled with attempts to cover up its own pleading nature with ‘dudes’ and ‘man’. Arin still remember what it said

 

_ Jon, let's talk about the past. I accepted you leaving, but you never were able to get over it. It's like you want to believe it didn't happen? Well, dude, I hate to break it to you but it happened. It sucked. We were both angry, petty assholes, but it's over now. I wanna fix this, man. We both need closure, and we can't get it by treating the past like it didn't happen.  _

 

After mailing the letter Arin immediately regarded it in slight vain, fearful it would ruin the stream of sweet postcards and Jon would never respond. Though, that's not what happened. Jon responded - the thought felt so foreign, as if the dreaded postcard was destined to never be responded to. A wave of excitement hit Arin slowly as he realized what Jon was asking, he tore his phone from his pocket as if it was on fire and began to type. A small glimmer of hope within him believe Jon would respond to him again, and this glimmer turned into a flame as a he pressed send. 

 

**in response to your postcard, of course i would**

 

Jon responded a few hours later, speaking about coming to visit Arin after he finishes some extra stuff he had promised to do. God, if Arins hope was a fire the whole block would be nothing but ash! Responses flew between the two, faster than they have in years. Dates, times and locations were picked and set. Soon, the two would see each other. Arin was losing his fucking mind from excitement! 

 

The days couldn't pass by fast enough for Arin! Everything moved at a snail's pace, before  _ the day _ finally arrived. Perhaps he put too much emphasis on certain things, but Arin didn't care about that right now -  _ the day _ was here. Jon had texted him a time and a date weeks in advance so Arin knew immediately where to go, he had practically memorized the location in preparation for this day. Thirty five and six seconds...Thirty five and seven seconds...eight seconds, time passed by slowly for Arin as he sat in the restaurant. He shouldn't feel this excited about seeing Jon again, after all he's just an old friend. The word friend made Arin let out a soft sigh, memories of the past flashing before his eyes in quick succession. They're friend now at least, and that was fine with him. It was fine. Arin leaned back, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. I better not be getting stood up by Jon of all fucking people, Arin thought. Before he even had time to plan out what to do if that is true a familiar face pulled into view. Jon. 

 

_ God,  _ seeing that face again in person was like a breath of fresh air! 

 

“Sorry I'm late, the traffic is crazy out there!” Jon’s voice was full of annoyance but his eyes held no such emotion.  

 

Arin stood up from the booth, listening to the man's partially apologetic words before throwing his arms around Jon. Jon rested his hands on Arins shoulder blades, a wave of dejavu hit the both of them. The hug, as cliché as it was, felt like home for Arin. Everything about it brought back memories of better times between the two, of early morning pancakes and midday giggles. When they pulled apart Arin searched Jon's face for any sign that he felt what Arin had, and he found exactly that. Jon held a small blissful look in his eyes and he grinned from ear to ear after the hug. Arin felt a mix of dejavu and nostalgia stabbing through him all at out at that look, memories of grump couch kisses replaying in his mind like an old movie. Yet, Jon was so much more entranced and giddy about stuff like this back then. This worry set a small seed of fear in Arins stomach as he moved away from Jon. 

 

The memory fizzled away as Arin moved to sit down, Jon following quickly. 

 

“So, what's the deal with the postcards?” Arin asks immediately, wasting no time. 

 

Jon looks down at the table, smiling to himself. “I'm guessing you didn't like them too much then, huh?” “No, I love ‘em, but I still want to know why. Why postcards? Why not email, I’d even take snapchat, but postcards? Who even sends those anymore?” Arins relaxed expression and quick response got a laugh out of Jon. 

 

“I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool. Unique, y’know? It started as a joke, I saw this corny postcard and decided since I still had your address I'd send it to you.” Jon leans back against the booth, hands on the table. “Then, it just sort of stuck? I don't know, I just thought it was fun. I’m shit at talking about the past, so it was nice to just ignore it with a silly postcard of two birds.” His voice grew a little quieter, a little more resigned. 

 

Before Arin had time to respond a waiter walked up to the table, handing out menus and asking about drinks. Soon the waiter left, leaving the two in a small silence before Arin spoke. “They're cute, I like the postcards. I mean, c’mon? What kind of asshole would I be if I didn't like cute animal pictures?” Jon smiled at that, shooting sparks through Arin. “You can't ignore the past man. It happened. It's over. You got a new place, you're doing well, I'm doing well. It didn't ruin us! I don't want you to look at it like a burn mark on a carpet. It’s not a black ring that you can't tear your eyes away from, it's like a pee stain on a carpet. It was gross and kinda annoying but you cleaned it up and now you barely see it anymore!” Arin got louder, waving his hands a little for emphasis. Jon stared at him with a guilty expression, like he was the one to pee on the made-up rug. “I don't want you to be afraid of talking about how we fought. It was fucking stupid, and you were thinking of leaving to work on Jontron anyway so it's no big deal!”

 

“I know, I know, I just felt like... like I ruined it. I mean, to leave on  **that.** Some leaving party that was, arguing about what you're going to do when I'm gone of all things? It's so stupid, I don't even remember why I was angry-” “You didn't want me to visit,” Arin interrupted quickly, his eyes bore into Jon. “that was why.  How fucked up is that?” 

 

Jon went silent, as if the words were mulling around in his brain. “Right. I remember that. I just wanted to leave this all behind, take as little of it as I could.” Jon shook his head, cringing at his own actions.  “God, that is fucked up. How did you forgive me for that shit?”

 

Arin laughed loudly, as if he'd heard the best joke of his life. “Dude, you don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that.” He crossed his arms, his grin slowly falling. “I'll be honest. I hated you for throwing it all away, I really cared about you. Yet, I got over it because of these postcards.  The memories of us made me happy, we had a hell of a lot of fun together! It was the ending that hurt me. It’s a shitty ending, but your postcards made it seem like the ending didn't happen! Like we left off how we should of” 

 

Silence. The silence between the two made Arin’s skin crawl, but thankfully the waiter arrived to distract him. The waiter handed out the food and drinks before leaving the table. Jon broke the silence, “we did have some good times, tons of meltdowns about shitty ass games! But, uh, do you miss...the other times?” Jon was looking up at Arin from his plate of food, staring at him intently. 

 

Arin froze. He should have known the question would arise, but he expected himself to be asking it. “Yeah.” Arin answers truthfully, “I miss it. Hell, I miss it a lot.” 

 

Jon’s eyes shine with new life and Arin immediately averts his eyes to his own food. “Me too,” the words are soft and full of emotion and  _ fuck  _ it breaks Arin’s heart. It's been so long - too long since he's heard Jon speak to him with that level of love. God, I'm going to pass out from this shit if he keeps doing it, Arin thinks. “Really?” He asks.

 

“Yeah, of course. It was nice.” Jon laughed as Arin raised his eyebrows in response. “Don't look at me with those confused eyes, I liked it! You fucking know I liked it don't be so worried!” 

 

The two laugh together, and as they come down from their laughing fit Arin puts his hand on top of Jon’s. It's cliché and Arin knows it is but like hell he cares. “Hurry up and finish your food so I can kiss you!” Arin whines.

 

“Why can't you kiss me now?” Jon asks, a shit eating grin spreading across his face. 

 

Arin’s nose scrunched up, “kiss you with food in your mouth? Fuck no, that’s gross!” Jon laughs again. 

 

Soon their food is finished, the bill was payed and the two step outside the restaurant. “I liked this” Arin spoke, walking towards his car. Jon followed Arin, despite the fact that his car was parked across the street. They knew what was going to happen, it worked like nostalgic clockwork and Jon knew all the signs. 

 

“Yeah,” Jon responded, keeping up with Arins pace. 

 

“We should do it again,” Arin stopping beside his car, moving over to get close to Jon. It was inevitable that they would kiss after Arin teased it in the restaurant, and yet it couldn't get there fast enough. When Arin finally felt a soft pair of lips against his own he melted immediately.  It has been too long, way too long since he'd kissed Jon. 

 

His hands tangled in Jon's hair, while Jon pulled Arin closer by his waist. Every movement made his head spin, every touch gave him goosebumps. The cold press of the car on his back caused Arin to shiver, the door handles edge just barely digging into his side. Jon was  _ new _ . He felt like the old Jon, but with new perks and twitches. The loud scratching noise of facial hair rubbing together was an obvious change, but there were smaller differences that Jon seemed to have obtained as well. He was like an updated version of himself, and that left Arin wondering which one he loved more. Though, any sort of thought process was immediately cut off as Jon kissed at Arin’s neck. 

 

“Shit, get in my car! I don't want to - fuck - do this in public!” Arin moaned. 

 

Jon let out a noise of disappointed before pulling back from Arin’s neck, “just like old times, huh? fucking in the back of your car.” Jon joked. Arin let out a mock sound of annoyance, “that only happened  three times!” Arin whined. 

 

Jon laughed, as Arin unlocked the car doors. “Fuck fucking in the back of the car I'm taking you home! You're getting the high class treatment, like I should have given you all those other times” Arin moved to get into the driver's seat, while Jon sat in the passenger seat. 

“So I'm getting upgraded to the grump couch then?” Jon joked, moving his hand to rest on Arin’s thigh. 

 

Arin’s breath hitched in his throat at the touch, his skin tingling. “No, even better, an actual bed!” Arin emphasized the last few words as he put the key in the ignition. 

 

“Ooooh wow, you're really breaking out the big guns now! I feel like royalty!” Jon retored. 

 

Arin feared that if he looked away from Jon the man would disappear like he did so long ago, leaving behind nothing but a postcard in an empty seat. He didn't. Jon remained in his seat, smiling at Arin and singing along to the radio. That was fine for Arin, in fact it was more than fine; it was perfect. 


End file.
